


Found

by bitchin_beskar



Series: I See Starlight In Your Eyes [2]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Baby Yoda is cute, F/M, Post Season 1, Romance, Sci-Fi, Slow Burn, Star Wars - Freeform, because FUCK THAT, eventually, except kuiil is alive, like super slow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24273127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchin_beskar/pseuds/bitchin_beskar
Summary: The Mandalorian has located Cerliah and the baby on Markon-Vel.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: I See Starlight In Your Eyes [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727272
Comments: 11
Kudos: 72





	1. The Hunter and His Prey

**Author's Note:**

> All of my stories will first be posted on Tumblr, followed by ArchiveOfOurOwn. I will also be answering asks and posting other bonus content, along with drop dates/times on my Tumblr, so if you want a first look at new content, go ahead and follow me @mindless--ramblings!!

Six weeks.

It had been _six_ _standard_ _weeks_. 

The Mandalorian sighed, slumped over in the pilot’s chair on the Razor Crest, the streaks of light flying past the windows in the cockpit a tell-tale sign of the lightspeed he’d been engaged in for the past couple of hours. His whole body ached with the stress and fatigue from the past month and a half, but none of his creaking joints or sore muscles could compare the ache in his heart.

The job was supposed to be a simple one. Ever since he’d cleared things with Karga, he’d been getting Guild jobs under the table every so often, which helped keep fuel in the Crest and food in his and the kid’s bellies. The bounty had been on Tatooine, some low-life, gambling, debt-runner who had pissed off a powerful man. Low risk. High reward. Simple. 

He’d flown to Tatooine, and had left his ship and the kid with Peli Motto, who had been thrilled to see them–well, at least the kid–again. He’d paid her credits to watch the ship and his kid, and then he’d gone off after the bounty. 

It hadn’t gone well. 

The bounty apparently had pissed off a  _ lot _ more than just a debt-collector. When he’d finally found the bounty, he’d been beaten and near death, surrounded by a group of spice smugglers. Supposedly, his bounty had racked up quite the debt to support his spice habit, in addition to the gambling debt, and when he couldn’t pay, he’d run. The Mandalorian had tried to stay hidden, but wearing a full suit of beskar on a planet that had two suns? Well, he was never going to stay hidden for very long. The group of smugglers had descended on him, and while he managed to take care of all of them, one had gotten in a lucky shot past his beskar, leaving him wounded. And, of course, a loose shot had hit his speeder, causing it to break down, leaving him stranded. Worst of all, the bounty had succumbed to his wounds, and this particular bounty had been one that needed to be alive for payment to be received. 

By the time he’d been able to make his way back to Mos Eisley, more bad news had awaited him. Peli was in hysterics when he arrived at the hangar. Two days prior, a group of slavers had attacked Mos Eisley on the orders of the Hutts, and had kidnapped multiple citizens, along with a couple of unfortunate travelers. Peli had been in town buying food when it had happened, and she’d run back to the hangar as soon as the slavers had attacked, but she’d been too late. The kid had been playing with some of the other children nearby, and he’d been snatched, along with all the other kids. 

Mando sighed again. He wanted to be mad at Peli,  _ kriff _ , he’d tried to be mad, but he just couldn’t muster up the strength. She’d been overwrought, sobbing in his arms as she’d tried to explain what had happened, apologizing every other sentence. It had been so unlike the tough, no-nonsense woman he’d met months prior, but he could understand to an extent. He’d wanted to panic when he’d learned the kid had been taken, by slavers no less, but he knew that he didn’t have time to panic if he wanted to find the kid as fast as possible.

Which led to his current predicament. 

He’d followed the slavers for three maker-forsaken weeks, always just a day or even just a few hours behind them. He’d contacted Karga and Cara, asking them to keep an ear out for any news, hoping to somehow get ahead of the slavers, but so far no luck. He’d had to stop and take a couple small jobs in order to get enough credits to buy enough fuel to keep up the planet hopping necessary to follow the slavers. 

After a quick supply run, he’d jumped back on the trail. It seemed as though the slavers had stopped running, as it looked as though the kid was on Markon-Vel, and had been for a while. But, he wasn’t taking any chances, so he was flying there as fast as the Crest could go. 

Finally,  _ finally _ , after hours in lightspeed, he arrived at Markon-Vel. He didn’t know much about the planet, only that it was similar in atmosphere and geography to Sorgan. He would admit to being confused at why slavers would choose Markon-Vel to settle, or why anyone on Markon-Vel would own slaves, as it seemed to be a simple agricultural world, but it didn’t matter. His kid was there, and he was going to get him back. No matter what. 

He landed in the woods a couple klicks from the town closest to the kid’s signal–yes, he’d put a tracker signal in the mythosaur necklace the kid insisted on wearing in case of this exact scenario–and descended the ladder down from the cockpit. He opened his weapons cache, equipping himself with more weapons than were likely strictly necessary, but he wasn’t taking any chances. Armed with his Amban rifle, his WESTAR-35 blaster, his vibroblades, and plenty of small, but powerful grenades for crowd control and distractions, he disembarked the Crest, closing the ramp with the controls on his vambrace. 

Stalking through the woods, he quickly came upon the small village. Most of the townspeople who saw him approaching quickly made their way inside, although a few brave souls stayed outside, eyeing him warily. His path was blocked by an elderly woman, fear clear in her eyes, but her stance showed nothing but confidence. 

“What is your business here, Mandalorian?” Her voice was steady, but there was a clear underlying tone of worry, clearly wondering what had brought a bounty hunter to her village. 

He stared at the woman for a few tense moments, watching as she refused to squirm in discomfort, meeting what she thought was his gaze resolutely. Finally, he spoke. “I’m looking for slavers. They would have had a small, green, alien child with large ears with them.” 

The woman’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t know anything about any slavers, but–”

She was cut off by the arrival of a young woman, who stepped forward, a clear look of distrust on her face. “Why exactly do you want to know, bounty hunter?” She spat, venom lacing her tone. The elder turned to scold her, but she spoke once more. “No, Grandmother, why should we offer any assistance to one who only sees other beings as a paycheck?” 

The Mandalorian tilted his head, observing the bold, younger woman. Very few had the guts to stand up to a Mandalorian, even fewer who dared do so without any weapons on their person. Although he admired her strength and courage, he didn’t want to get into any debates or fights with any of the locals. They didn’t seem to be aware of any slavers, and if it were possible to resolve this without violence against innocents, well, he would greatly prefer that. 

“The child isn’t a bounty, but he was in my care until circumstances changed that. I am merely trying to reunite with him.”

The young woman eyed him suspiciously, but the elder woman nodded at his words. “A young woman came to Markon-Vel roughly three weeks ago, and she brought with her a child matching the description you gave.” The young woman protested, but the elder continued. “She purchased the hut on the outskirts of our village, down the main road.”

The Mandalorian nodded, stepping past the two women, and proceeding down the long road through the town. After a few minutes, the small hut the elder had described came into view. He could see a woman kneeling in front of the house, tending to what seemed to be a small garden. He couldn’t see the kid anywhere, but that wasn’t saying much considering he was roughly the size of a womp rat, and the same color as the grass surrounding him. The woman didn’t look like a slaver, but that didn’t mean much either. 

He watched as she looked up as he approached, visibly stiffening at the sight of him. He knew he looked imposing in full beskar-gam, but there was some dark part of him that was pleased to see her scared of him, to see the person responsible for the kidnapping of his foundling fearful and terrified. 

He continued forward, watching as she stood quickly, glancing behind her before moving forward slightly into his path. He strode up to her, quickly moving into her personal space, somewhat surprised that she refused to back down, despite the clear terror in her eyes. 

“Where is the kid?”

He watched as she stared defiantly up at his helm, somehow meeting his gaze, despite being unable to see his eyes. She stared for a few quiet minutes, before the fight seemed to leave her body, her shoulders slumping almost imperceptibly. 

“Why do you want him?” 

It took everything the Mandalorian had to not start at the question. No denials, no protests, no bargaining, nothing he was used to when it came to bounties or those he had to confront for information. Just resigned acceptance. 

He didn’t respond, and she repeated herself. 

He took a brief moment before answering her, deciding to be honest. “He is my foundling, in my care until I can reunite him with his own kind. He was taken from me, and I am here to take him back.” There was a challenge in his tone, as if daring her to argue her part in his foundling’s capture.

But he was shocked as instead of her body tensing, becoming defensive, she did the opposite. Her posture relaxed, shock and–was that awe?–coming to light in her eyes. She opened her mouth before closing it, clearly trying to decide what to say. She did this a few more times, and just as he was about to order her to hand over his kid once more, she spoke softly.

“You– he– he’s not your bounty? You’re not here to take him back to the slavers?” 

This time, the Mandalorian was unable to hide his shock. He took a small step back at her words, watching as she seemed to have tears appearing in her eyes. A soft “No,” released from his mouth, unbidden, as he watched her seem to debate with herself before turning on her heel, telling him to wait there as she walked towards a small pond in the backyard of her hut. 

He watched as she waded through the grass, crouching down by the pond for a moment, gathering something in her arms before turning back and walking towards him. 

He felt his heart clench as he saw the kid in her arms, little fingers clutching at her neckline, his little head tucked underneath her chin. His big eyes were closed in contentment, and the woman’s grip on him was comforting, her hand laying across his back in support as she moved towards him. He felt guilt pool deep in his gut as he remembered the vicious pleasure he’d felt when he’d seen that he’d scared her. He’d misjudged her it seemed, perhaps she  _ hadn’t _ taken part in the abduction of his kid, and the fact that she seemed to care so deeply for his son... 

Meanwhile he’d thought she was the one who’d taken his son in the first place–it left a sour taste in his mouth. 

As she made her way back to him, he watched as the kid opened his big black eyes, and when he laid eyes on him, the kid squealed in excitement, immediately reaching his tiny arms out towards his guardian. The woman easily handed him over, and the Mandalorian felt a sense of relief flow through his whole body, tension leaking out of his pose as he held his young charge against his beskar-clad chest. 

Cerliah had watched with tears in her eyes as the baby cuddled with the Mandalorian standing before her. When she’d first seen the form of a notorious bounty hunter striding towards her small hut, fear had gripped her, and she’d nearly had a panic attack. She would have defended Little One with her life, but she knew it would not do any good, if the Mandalorian was truly there to take his bounty.

Oh, but the relief that washed over her when he said he didn’t intend to return Little One to the slavers… 

She would be the first to admit a small amount of shock ran through her when the Mandalorian had declared Little One to be his charge, his foundling. She knew little of Mandalorian culture, only what she’d been able to read in her mistress’s library, but she knew that they considered adopted children to be just as important as blood-kin, so to hear this fearsome warrior declare such an attachment to Little One was what had convinced her to go and collect him from by the pond. 

She watched their reunion, soaring happiness and a deep gut-wrenching sorrow warring in her heart. She was so very pleased that Little One was back with his father, but she’d come to love the small baby she’d cared for these past few weeks. She felt the stabbing pain she imagined came from a mother knowing their child was about to leave them, despite Little One never having been hers in the first place.

She didn’t realize it, but tears had leaked from her eyes and began to run in small rivulets down her cheeks, as she tried to come to terms with the fact that she would likely not see Little One again. 

The Mandalorian looked at the woman in front of him, another pang of guilt striking his heart as he saw the heartbroken look on her face as she watched the kid. He debated, trying to figure out something to say. 

“I thought– He– I was told he’d been taken by slavers.” 

He wanted to smack himself for the way his words sounded so accusatory coming through the vocoder, but she didn’t seem to take offense. She reached out slowly, softly rubbing the skin of the kid’s ear as she stared sadly up at him. 

“He was sold to my mistress at a slave auction on Lyerra three weeks ago,” she spoke, eyes downcast at her words, pointedly avoiding looking at either him or the kid. “My master and mistress were killed by bounty hunters searching for him later that night, but he’d been hidden with me, and we were able to flee.” 

He felt a pit in his stomach. His kid had been in the hands of slavers for three weeks before being bought. It wasn’t as bad as he’d first thought, but three weeks was still too long for his  _ ad’ika _ to be in the grasp of those kinds of beings. 

The Mandalorian was distracted out of his musings as the woman in front of him withdrew a chain from beneath her dress. She lifted it off over her head, fiddling with something on it before re-donning the necklace and tucking it back under her neckline, but not before he caught a glimpse of some kind of amulet or charm. 

He watched as she held her hand out to him, a small metal device blinking in her palm. He stared at her for a moment, watching as she prodded him to take it. 

“It’s his trigger,” she offered, and the Mandalorian felt his spine stiffen in shock. “I knew where the master kept all of the triggers, and after his death, I took his and mine with me before we’d fled.” 

It wasn’t even something he had thought about, but now that he knew of its existence, he felt cold chills run up and down his spine. His son, his  _ ad’ika _ , had a miniature bomb somewhere on his person, and this woman was holding the device that could set it off. His hand snapped out and yanked it from her grasp before he could think, but she didn’t even flinch. 

“I’m sorry.”

The Mandalorian stared at her. Did she just–? “Excuse me?”

She sighed softly, repeating herself. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” 

Cerliah couldn’t look at the Mandalorian, choosing instead to observe the grass at her feet. “I’m sorry I couldn’t deactivate the trigger.” 

He stood there in incredulous silence for a moment, blinking dumbly at the woman in front of him. He wasn’t sure the stabbing guilt that he felt could get any worse, but with her words, it seemed to. He’d come here, assuming the worst, that she’d stolen his kid, and he’d felt pleasure in her terror, and all she had done was protect his son, and keep him safe, and now she was apologizing for something completely out of her control? 

“I know someone who can deactivate the trigger. Come with us.”


	2. The Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorian has located Cerliah and the baby on Markon-Vel.

Cerliah blinked, staring at the towering form of beskar in front of her. His dark, T-shaped visor tilted down at her, and she felt a brief flash, wishing for just a moment, that she could see his eyes, if only to know what in the  _ kriffing hell _ he was thinking in that moment.

The Mandalorian stood just as still as she, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he’d shocked himself with his words. She struggled with what to say, how to even begin to answer his offer, but she didn’t have to. 

“We can bring you back to Markon-Vel after,” he offered. “It’s–It’s the least I can do.” 

Cerliah struggled to keep her expression blank while her mind raced, her hand absentmindedly coming up to brush against the side of her neck where she knew the implant was. Was he really offering–? 

She’d had the transmitter implanted when she was young–too young to really remember much except for the pain–and she’d only been told that if she disobeyed her master, the trigger could make the tiny bomb underneath her skin go off. She’d spent most of her life with the tiny explosive resting just underneath her skin, and in all the time she’d spent with it, she’d never entertained the idea that someone could, or would, willingly deactivate it. 

She looked at the Mandalorian, still standing in front of her, waiting for her to speak. She opened her mouth, despite not knowing what her answer would be, when the little one, still wrapped securely in his guardian’s arma reached for her. 

Eyes wide, she stared at the little baby with his tiny three-fingered hands reaching out towards her. His guardian tilted his head down to look at the baby, but didn’t seem inclined to let him go, until the baby’s big black eyes began to fill with tears, little whimpers working their way out of his little mouth. The Mandalorian quickly straightened his arms, holding the little one out for Cerliah to take, even as she’d begun to stretch her own arms out. 

Stepping forward, she reached out, taking the baby in her arms, her fingers brushing over the Mandalorian’s vambrace as she did so. She pulled him in close to her chest, and the little one tucked his wet cheeks into her neck, his ears laying flat against the exposed skin of her collarbone. His fingers twisted in her dress, and she began to slowly sway to and fro, humming softly as she tried to calm his sobs. 

The Mandalorian watched as the woman in front of him calmed his son with surprising speed, her movements reflexive and unconscious as she cradled him. When his son had reached for the woman, he’d unconsciously tightened his grip, but when the telltale whimpers of an oncoming tantrum began to increase in volume, he’d relinquished his grip to her. 

She seemed to know instinctively how to calm him down, the rocking of her body and the humming coming naturally as she soothed the baby. He watched in awe as his son settled down without fight, his tiny body relaxing in her hands. 

He felt a sharp, stabbing sensation as he realized this wasn’t this woman’s first time calming a child. Seeing the maternal instinct in the woman in front of him brought forth memories of his own mother–faint as they may be.

He could barely remember his mother’s face, but he still dreamed of the sensation of being held in her arms as she’d soothed him in a way only a mother could. Seeing his son experiencing that same comfort he himself could barely remember brought a tightness to his chest. 

“You’re good with him.”

Cerliah looked up almost guiltily at his words. For a brief moment she’d forgotten that he was standing there. Holding the little one in her arms, she’d allowed herself to imagine what it might have been like, holding her own baby in her arms. Would she have been able to calm her baby as easily? With the little one, it was instinctual. Would it have been just as instinctual with her own flesh and blood? 

She went to try and dislodge the child from her chest, trying to pry his fingers off her dress, but the Mandalorian held up a hand to stop her. She stared at him for a moment, before looking down at the child tucked against her bosom. She watched for a moment as the baby nuzzled into her, before making her decision. 

“If–if it’s not too much trouble–” 

The Mandalorian nodded as she spoke, watching as his son seemed to relax even further at her words. Narrowing his eyes–although neither she nor the kid had any way of knowing that–he groaned softly under his breath, too low for the modulator to pick up. He’d have to explain to  _ ad’ika _ later that the woman wouldn’t be traveling with them for any longer than it took to bring her back to Markon-Vel. It was already cramped on the Razor Crest, and he didn’t need to worry about another mouth to feed, no matter how useful it would be to have someone willing to watch the little womp rat while he was away on jobs. \

“Do you need to grab anything?” 

Cerliah bit her lip in thought. “How far away is your friend?” 

The Mandalorian was silent for a moment, thinking. “We should be back within a standard week.” 

Cerliah nodded. “I’ll grab my things.” She had better luck getting the child to let go this time, and she handed him over to the Mandalorian, turning quickly on her heel and walking back towards her hut. She packed her dresses into her knapsack, grabbing the small medkit she’d purchased in the village, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the small stuffed bantha toy that she’d bought the little one as well. 

She left the small hut, shutting and securing the door behind her as she walked back to where the Mandalorian and the baby were standing, not having moved an inch while she’d been gone. As she approached the duo, the little one caught sight of his stuffed bantha, and immediately began wiggling in his guardians arms, little three-fingered hands clutching desperately at the air as he reached for the toy. She relinquished the toy to his hold, smiling softly as the baby immediately cuddled the stuffed animal close. 

The Mandalorian tilted his head, a silent question, asking if she was ready. Cerliah took a deep breath, glancing back at her hut one last time. 

“We’ll be back in a standard week.”

Nodding, she turned away from her home, gesturing for the Mandalorian to lead the way. He spun on his heel, still cradling the baby, and began his march back towards town. Somewhat surprised at his quick pace, Cerliah walked quickly to catch up, struggling to keep in pace with his long stride. They marched through the village, and although she flushed slightly at the curious stares from villagers, her face otherwise remained impassive. 

She nodded at Katriel, who stood next to Grandmother, watching her leave. Kat had become a fast friend, and Cerliah felt a pang at leaving without saying goodbye, although judging by the look in Kat’s eyes, she understood. The Mandalorian was already doing a lot for her by taking her with him to get the transmitter removed, and she didn’t want to risk his wrath by asking to say goodbye when she’d only be gone a week. 

They left the town behind them as they walked into the woods. After roughly half an hour of walking, Cerliah was just mustering up the courage to ask if they were close to his ship, when it came into view. 

Eyeing the craft, Cerliah took in the carbon blasts that marred the silver panels of the Clone War era gunship. There were scrapes and dents in the hull, and the remnants of what might have once been red paint, but otherwise the ship looked to be in decent condition. As they approached, The Mandalorian pressed a button on his vambrace, and the large ramp began to lower. As they approached the ramp, Cerliah could see the carbon freezer, with empty slots, waiting to be filled. 

A chill ran down her spine as she saw the empty units, and her breathing hitched. Pointedly avoiding looking at the freezer, she took in the rest of the ship. Towards the nose, there was a small cot with crates stacked on top of it, shoved next to an even tinier ‘fresher. There were crates secured against the wall with tactical nets draped over them, and multiple cabinets lined the walls of the ship. Cerliah could only imagine how many weapons were contained on just this ship alone. 

She followed the Mandalorian up the ramp, watching as he stored his rifle in one of the many cabinets before closing the ramp and ascending the ladder next to the cot and ‘fresher. She paused, wondering if she was supposed to wait down in the hull when she heard him speak.

“Come up here.” 

She ascended after the Mandalorian, and as she went to step off the metal bar and on to the upper deck of the ship, the worn sole of her shoe slipped on the smooth metal, and she began to fall. A hand wrapped around her bicep and jerked her forwards with such force that she crashed into the solid form of beskar. Her hands flew to his shoulders, gripping at the fabric just to the sides of his pauldrons. Her body smacked hard into the beskar cuirass, although the Mandalorian didn’t move an inch.    


He waited a beat, while she found her footing, and once she let go of him, his hand detached from her bicep. She stepped back slightly, looking down at the metal grates on the floor while the Mandalorian moved to the pilots seat. She looked around the cockpit, and upon seeing the child sitting on one of the two remaining seats, she sat down in the other, just to the left of the Mandalorian, after taking off her knapsack and tucking it next to her. She buckled her belt quietly as he began take-off procedures, and she watched in amusement as the baby kept pushing buttons that the Mandalorian would quickly re-press in order to undo whatever chaos the baby was trying to cause.

After a minute or so of that little game, she reached over and plucked the baby off the seat, pulling him into her lap, holding him so he couldn’t press any buttons. 

“It’s a wonder you ever go anywhere if all you do is cause trouble.” she murmured down at the child, who just looked up at her with an innocent look in his eyes. His ears twitched upwards slightly as she cooed at him, and she stroked the soft skin she found there. She didn’t look up, though if she had, she would have seen the Mandalorian watching her distract the baby. He stared for a minute at the sight, before turning in his seat and continuing to set the course. 

“We’re about to take-off,” was the only warning she got as the ship began to vibrate beneath her feet as it rose in the air. Her hands tightened imperceptibly on the child as the ship rose, rattling and clanking as the engines hummed. She watched through the transparisteel windows in the cockpit as the ship rose above the trees of Markon-Vel, leaving the atmosphere and entering the cold darkness of space. 

Cerliah hadn’t imagined that she’d be back in space so soon after landing on Markon-Vel, but anxieties building in her chest about the upcoming deactivation of her trigger distracted her from those thoughts. She couldn’t help but let her mind race as she wondered what all could go wrong. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t notice as the Mandalorian engaged the hyperdrive, although the jolt of the ship entering hyperdrive certainly caught her attention. 

She looked up as the Mandalorian stood from his seat, gesturing for her to follow him. She unbuckled her belt, and grabbing her knapsack with one hand, cradling the baby with the other, she followed him through the door and into the back part of the ship. There was a door off to the right, and a slightly larger ‘fresher to the left, with a shower. Towards the back there was another cot, and floating beside the cot was a small, white, spherical orb. The Mandalorian pressed yet another button on his vambrace, and the orb opened to show that it was a floating crib. 

He stood beside it silently, and Cerliah took the hint, setting the baby down inside the padded interior. She watched as the baby laid down, closing his big, curious eyes, and the Mandalorian closed the crib, allowing him to rest. 

“Here’s where you’ll sleep,” he offered, and Cerliah turned to look at the small bunk. “It’s not much, but you won’t be on the ship for long.” The bunk, while rather small and depressing, was not the worst sleeping arrangement she’d ever had. She’d had masters who preferred their slaves not to have any amenities at all, so she’d grown to appreciate little comforts, no matter how small they may be. She turned to thank the Mandalorian, but he was already walking back towards the cockpit. 

“You should get some rest. We’ll be in hyperspace for a while yet.” He threw out over his shoulder, and Cerliah shrugged. Pulling off her tunic, leaving her in just her chemise, she set her knapsack down and crawled into the small bunk. Tucking herself under the coarse blanket, she fell asleep with surprising speed.

The Mandalorian sat in the pilot’s chair, pointedly not looking towards the back of his ship, where he could hear the woman’s soft breaths as she slept. When she’d almost fallen down the ladder, his hand had shot out on instinct, not wanting her to fall. He’d overestimated his own strength, which had resulted in her entire body pressed tight against his, her hands on his shoulders, dangerously close to his helmet. Strangely though, that wasn’t what he’d focused on when she’d fallen against him. His mind had catalogued how she’d felt against him, her soft curves pressed against the cold ridges of his beskar. He’d been able to feel the heat of her skin, even through the thick leather of his gloves and the heavy canvas of his outfit. He’d waited only until she’d gotten her footing back before stepping away, although it had pained him to do so. 

He told himself it was only because it had been practically years since he’d felt any kind of touch that hadn’t led to pain, aside from a rare few. He ignored the fact that he’d never felt that rush of adrenaline when Omera had stepped a bit too close, or that sense of comfort when he’d felt Cara’s presence at his side. 

He could only stare at the view out the cockpit window for so long, and he eventually found himself rising out of his chair, about to make his way to the lower deck when a soft sound floated towards him from the back of the ship. He paused at the ladder, waiting–for what he wasn’t sure–and when he heard the noise again, he slowly walked back towards the cot, unable to control his movements. 

The woman lay curled on the cot, the canvas blanket clenched in her grasp as she pulled it tighter around her body. It took him a minute to realize she was cold. Before he had time to second guess himself, he spun around and made his way to the door towards the front of the ship. It slid open with a hiss, and he quickly grabbed the blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed–his bed, although he rarely used it–stubbornly ignoring the voice inside his head asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. He moved quietly back to where the woman lay, and he gently arranged the blanket over her body. 

As though with a mind of its own, his gloved hand trailed up her shoulder and across her cheek, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen across her face behind her ear. He paused, watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest before he realized what he was doing, snatching his hand away as though her skin had burned him. 

Chastising himself, he made his way to the lower deck, busying himself with cleaning one of his already pristine blasters. He needed to do something, anything, to keep his mind off the woman asleep above him. 

For Maker’s sake, he didn’t even know her name. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh I’m so so sorry this is so late!!!!!! I posted on Tumblr that I was gonna post at 2, but I was without internet for a couple hours, so I couldn’t post on time. But, better late than never! Here is Chapter 2 of Found!! There will be one more chapter in this story before I move on to the next in the series. I really hope you guys like it!!! Also, I posted a prompt list on my tumblr, feel free to send in requests there! I will be trying to work on any requests in between chapters of this story.


	3. Pains of the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cerliah, Mando, and the Child finally arrive on Arvala-7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are done! And that means another chapter!! This is the last chapter of Found, and I’ll be starting to write the next instalment of the I See Starlight series later this week. I hope y’all enjoy!!!!!

The trip to the Mandalorians’ friend had flown by surprisingly fast. They’d fallen into an easy routine over the course of the week, with Cerliah keeping Little One occupied while the Mandalorian did odd little jobs around the ship, mending things and cleaning his weapons. Time passed differently in space, so Cerliah tried to follow the routine of Little One and the Mandalorian as best as she could, as they were the only way for her to judge the beginning and end of her days. 

She was sitting on her small bunk, legs tucked underneath her as she watched Little One waddle around the cot, his tiny legs getting tangled in her blankets as he’d pick up his little toy bantha and throw it, only to chase back after it, and repeat his little game over and over again. So caught up in watching him, she didn’t notice the Mandalorian walk up beside her until she felt a soft touch on her shoulder. 

Starting slightly, she looked up at the silent tower of beskar, his helmet tilted down slightly, and she assumed that he was looking at her, although she wasn’t sure. “We’ll be arriving soon, you should come to the cockpit.” She nodded, but the Mandalorian was already walking towards the cockpit. 

She stood from her bunk, and smiled softly as Little One held his arms up. She picked him up, holding him to her chest as she walked towards the cockpit, sitting down in the seat to the left of the pilot’s chair. She buckled her belt and held the baby on her lap, watching as the Mandalorian worked the controls with an ease and comfort that could only come from a life flying through space. 

As she saw the planet approaching through the transparisteel, she realized she didn’t even know the name of their destination. “Where are we going?” The words were out of her mouth before she even realized what she’d said, and she flushed, looking down at her lap. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds. 

The Mandalorian didn’t turn in his seat, and the longer he didn’t say anything the more nervous she became. Just as she was about to open her mouth–to apologize or defend herself she wasn’t sure–the Mandalorian spoke. “Arvala-7.” 

Well, at least she had a name for the planet in front of her, even if it wasn’t one she recognized. As they approached the planet, Cerliah watched through the windows in the cockpit, looking at the dry desert land that stretched across the entire world. It reminded her of Tatooine, and that was not a planet she  _ ever _ wanted to visit again. 

“Your friend chose to live  _ here _ ?” Again, the words were out of her mouth before she could think, and she wanted to smack herself. But to her shock, there was a muffled chuckle from the Mandalorian. She looked at the back of his helmet, surprised, but he didn’t turn to face her, and didn’t offer any explanation for his unexpected outburst. 

The Mandalorian maneuvered the ship down to the planet’s surface, landing just a stone’s throw away from a small vapour farm. There was a pen with large, oddly shaped animals that she had no name for, and a small workshop next to the home. 

He stood, and Cerliah followed suit, cradling the baby in her arms, suddenly feeling a surge of panic at the realization that she was about to trust a stranger–a friend of the Mandalorians, maybe, but a stranger to her–to remove the trigger that had been implanted in her skin for almost her entire life. She clutched Little One tighter to her chest, and she closed her eyes against the unrelenting terror pulsing through her. 

“Hey.” 

The Mandalorian had started for the ladder, but when he didn’t hear the woman moving, he turned back to look at her, only to see her swaying slightly, eyes clenched shut and face pale. He could see the tension in her shoulders, fear coming off her slight form in waves. He stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulders, steadying her. 

At the sound of his voice, her eyes snapped open, and he could see the terror in her eyes. The fear of the unknown could be a powerful thing, and he could understand why she was so scared. “It’s alright, you don’t have to get it removed if you don’t want to. My friend might be able to just deactivate it–”

She shook her head. “No, no I can’t–I can’t leave it in, I just–I just…” She trailed off, teeth toying with her lower lip as she struggled to come up with the right words. “I  _ need _ it out. It’s just…” She sighed, her arms squeezing his son briefly. “I never thought I’d be at this point. I never thought it was even possible that I’d live long enough to get it removed.” 

He squeezed her shoulders, trying to offer a small amount of comfort. He’d lived a life filled with violence and danger, and he’d known since he’d taken up the mantle of bounty hunter that any job he took could be his last. He’d made peace with it long ago, and it was only recently that he’d had to change his outlook on life, ever since the little womp rat came to him. But to live as a slave, expect to die as a slave? That wasn’t a choice. He couldn’t imagine it, and the woman before him had lived it. 

They stood in silence for a few moments before he moved away, walking over to the ladder and descending to the first level of the ship. Cerliah followed, and with a few soft words to tell the little one to hang on, she began descending the ladder as well. She was almost to the bottom when the baby shifted, and one of her hands flew to his back to steady him. She paused on the ladder, only a few rungs from the bottom, when she felt the Mandalorian place his gloved hands on her waist, steadying her once more. 

She climbed down the last few rungs, pointedly ignoring the way she could feel the heat of his hands, even through the thick leather of his gloves and the roughspun canvas of her tunic. Following him as he lowered the ramp, she stepped off the ship for the first time in a week, wincing slightly at the bright light provided by the sun. 

She followed the Mandalorian as he walked towards the pens holding the strange animals, and as her vision adjusted, she could see a small form standing outside the pen. He was a species she recognized from the slave auctions in the market on Lyerra, an Ugnaught. They were reputed to be a loyal and hard-working species. Unfortunately, that also made them perfect slaves in the eyes of slave traders. 

She stood slightly behind the Mandalorian as they approached the Ugnaught, and waited for him to speak. 

“Back so soon, Mando?” Cerliah couldn’t help but smile at the tone of the Ugnaught’s voice, calm and soothing, with an undertone of sarcasm, like she imagined her own father might have sounded. 

The Mandalorian didn’t say anything, and the Ugnaught peered around him to look at her. “I see you picked up another traveler! And you found the child.” The baby stirred, as though he knew he was being talked about, and began to squirm, begging to be put down. Cerliah complied, and the baby toddled over to the Ugnaught, his small hands waving hello. 

The Mandalorian finally spoke, not to the Ugnaught, but to her. “This is Kuiil, the friend I mentioned.” Cerliah nodded respectfully, and the Mandalorian finally turned back to Kuiil. “I need a favor.” 

Kuiil nodded, but continued to stand there, staring at the Mandalorian as though waiting for something. Finally, after a rather awkward pause, the Mandalorian spat out a disgruntled “What?”

Kuiil raised an eyebrow. “Are you not going to give me the name of your companion in return?” The Mandalorian paused, turning to look back at Cerliah, but before she could say anything, Kuiil cut him off. “Mando! You mean to tell me you never asked her name?” 

She snickered softly at the judgemental tone the Ugnaught used, watching as he held up a hand, as if to prevent any kind of justification or explanation. “Come inside. There, I will learn your name, we will eat, and then perhaps we can see about this favor.” 

Cerliah frowned softly. She didn’t want to impose on the Mandalorians friend any longer than she had to. “It’s alright, we don’t have to–” 

“I have spoken.” 

With that, Kuill turned on his heel, marching back towards the small farmhouse, and it wasn’t until Cerliah felt a gentle hand on the small of her back that she began to move forwards. She followed the Ugnaught and the little baby inside the small home, and took a seat at the small table he had set up. 

As Kuiil began to mix together ingredients for a stew, Cerliah and the Mandalorian sat at the small table in the middle of the modest living room. Kuiils' back was to them, but that did not stop him from conversing with her, “Tell me, what is your name?” 

“Cerliah,” she said softly. “Thank you for your hospitality.” She swore she could see a light blush spread across the Ugnaught’s cheeks. 

“I have spoken.” 

She watched as the stew was heated over the small fire in the kitchen, and then ladled into bowls for herself, Kuill and the baby. She assumed the Mandalorian must be eating at a different time, as he never ate with her and the child on the ship. As they sat down to supper, the baby on her lap, Kuill finally turned back to the Mandalorian.

“So, Mando. Does this favor have anything to do with where you found the child?” 

Cerliah was shocked at the speed and accuracy with which the Ugnaught had guessed their purpose here. The Mandalorian seemed unsurprised however. “Yes. He’s been implanted with a slave trigger, I need you to remove it without harming him.” Kuiils' eyes widened, but the Mandalorian wasn’t finished. “Cerliah would also like you to remove hers.”

Cerliah completely missed whatever Kuill had said in response to the Mandalorians words as she tried in vain to cover up her shock. It was the first time the Mandalorian had said her name, and she didn’t know why it affected her so, but shivers ran down her back, and gooseflesh appeared on her arms. 

She took a moment to collect herself, and was able to refocus on Kuiil. The Ugnaught was looking at her with an unreadable expression. “How long have you had the implant?” 

She rested her hand against the side of her neck, where she knew the implant lay. “I was young.” Her voice was soft as she recalled her past. “Imperials had attacked our home, and they shot my parents.” Her voice was steady, as though the story she was reciting had happened to someone else, not her. “I think I was… four? Maybe five? I don’t remember much after they died, I think I was in shock.” 

Kuiil nodded understandingly, and Cerliah continued. “I remember a room. It was dark and dirty, and they had me strapped to a table.” She swallowed harshly, her voice beginning to shake. “I–I remember it hurt when they p–put it in. T–The side of my neck h–hurt for d–days.” Her hand was clenched in a fist on the table, her fingers cupped protectively over her neck, as though to protect from the phantom pains. “T–They just told me t–that if I disobeyed, they’d b–blow my h–head off.” 

Cerliah felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried to force the hazy memories back down, and Kuiil laid his hand over hers in comfort. “I will help you. I have spoken.” He stood from the table, and left the hut. Cerliah sat quietly, wiping at her tears. She started when the Mandalorian spoke, she’d nearly forgotten he was there. 

“Did–Do you know–Did they hurt him? The slavers? When–When they put in his trigger?” 

Cerliah felt her heart break at the obvious pain in his voice, the voice of a father desperate to know if his child had been hurt. “I–I don’t know. When he came to me, he–he already had the trigger.” 

The Mandalorian made a pained noise, and Little One looked up at his father’s despair, pulling himself onto the table and toddling over to his guardian, falling into his lap. The Mandalorians’ gloves curled around his little body, holding him gently. 

Kuiil came back inside, carrying a small toolbox. He set the toolbox down, and looked at Cerliah. “I can remove the trigger, but it will be painful. You’ve had the implant for so long, it is impossible to remove it without causing pain.” Nodding, she turned to face the Ugnaught, but not before a thought struck her. 

“Will it hurt him? He’s so little…” She trailed off, looking at the baby sitting on the Mandalorians’ lap, not noticing how his helmet tilted in the subtle way that showed his gaze was resting on her. 

But Kuiil noticed, and he grinned, secretly pleased. Both Mando and the child needed someone more permanent in their lives, to help take care of them, and he felt as though she would be perfect for such a role. “The procedure will not hurt the child. The implant has not had time to bond to his system.” 

Cerliah let out a small sigh of relief. She could withstand the pain of the procedure, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to bear it if Little One had to go through the same. She watched, shoulders tense as Kuiil opened his toolbox, and began pulling out different devices. As he worked, he spoke to the Mandalorian. 

“Mando, you need to put the child in the other room, he will likely react badly.” Cerliah closed her eyes to fight back the wave of nausea that rose at Kuiil’s words. She barely heard the bounty hunter leave, focusing on trying to control her fear. As the Mandalorian came back into the room and went to re-take his seat, Kuiil stopped him. “I need you to hold Cerliah still.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she turned in her seat, only to see Kuiil looking at her with sorrowful eyes. “It will be painful, and I cannot have you moving. It could set the bomb off while I am deactivating it.” 

Cerliah sucked in a breath. She looked between Kuiil and the Mandalorian curling her arms around her stomach as she tried to steel herself for what was to come. The Mandalorian kneeled before her sitting form, placing his gloved hand on her folded arms. “You don’t have to do this,” his voice is soft, despite the harsh static from his vocoder. 

Staring into the dark visor, Cerliah shook her head slowly. “No, I do. I–I have to m–move on.” She hated how her voice shook. “I–I can’t let fear control me. N–Not anymore.” 

The Mandalorian was silent, staring at her for a few moments, before he slowly nodded. He stood, turning to Kuiil. “How do we do this?” Kuiil motioned for Cerliah to stand, and had the Mandalorian sit in her place. He directed Cerliah to sit, perched sideways on the Mandalorians’ lap. 

Blushing fiercely, Cerliah did as she was told, and the Mandalorian wrapped his arm around her, his hand clenched in the fabric at her back, holding her firm against his chest. Her arms were pinned to her sides, her own hands clenched in the fabric of her skirts. Kuiil gently brushed her hair to the side, away from the left side of her neck, where the implant lay. He gently instructed the Mandalorian to hold her head still, and Mando’s other arm came up, pulling her head to nestle in the crook of his shoulder, her face pressed against the heavy canvas that protected his neck. 

His palm was warm against her head, gently pressing her against his neck and shoulder, restricting her movement. She tried to keep her breathing steady, but she could feel her heart racing in her chest. 

She could feel Kuiils’ warm hands on the side of her neck, and she resisted the urge to flinch. The Ugnaught narrated his movements to her, and she relaxed slightly, the fact that she knew what was happening made up for the fact that she couldn’t see what was going on. 

“I need to cut into your skin now, Cerliah. You must  _ not _ move.”

She clenched her eyes shut, forcing her breathing to stay slow and even, despite the burning as her lungs tried to take in more air. She felt the blade pierce the sensitive skin, and she bit her lip to stop from crying out. 

Kuiil continued to narrate his actions as he began to deactivate the implant, to stop the device from exploding when he removed it. Cerliah felt her muscles straining as her body wanted to twitch and flinch at the painful sensations, but the Mandalorians’ arms around her prevented any movements.    


Finally, after several excruciating minutes, Kuiil announced that he’d successfully deactivated the implant. “I need to remove the implant. It will hurt, but you need to continue to stay still.” 

As Kuiil began to remove the device, there was a sharp pain in her neck, and she whimpered, her hands flying up to clutch at the fabric covering the Mandalorians’ arm. His arm tightened around her, almost to the point of pain, but Cerliah was grateful, his presence was grounding. The pain subsided, and Kuiil let out a soft sight.

“The implant is out. I will stitch the incision up.” 

The Mandalorian made a small noise of acknowledgement, continuing to hold Cerliah tight. He watched as Kuiil carefully stitched up the wound in her neck, holding her a little bit tighter every time she tried to flinch. 

When Kuiil had asked him to hold her still, his heart had dropped. The idea that the pain would be so bad that he would have to physically restrain her settled uneasily in his stomach. She wasn’t a bounty, he didn’t want to hurt her. But, he’d done it. She was so small, and fragile on his lap, and every time he felt her twitch, he had to physically force himself to stop from jerking her away from Kuiils' hands.  _ Kriffing _ hell, he barely knew her, but seeing her in pain caused a vice to tighten around his heart.

Kuiil finally finished, placing a small bacta patch over Cerliah’s wound to keep it covered, and allow her to heal. The Mandalorian loosened his arms from around her, but he didn’t let go completely. His hand, which had been clenched in a fist at her back now rested on her hip, fingers splayed against the rough fabric of her tunic. The hand that had been holding her head against him stroked once through her hair, and after she slowly lifted her head, his fingers came up to cup her cheek, fingertips brushing against her wet cheeks, wiping away tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed. 

“Are you okay?” 

Cerliah looked into the T visor of the Mandalorian, unable to see his face, but hearing the genuine concern in his voice. “Y–Yes, I think so,” she subconsciously went to feel the bacta patch, but a leather gloved hand closed around her wrist, preventing her from touching it. 

“Cerliah, you should change the patch every forty-eight hours for the next two standard weeks, just to make sure the incision heals fully.” Kuiil was digging through his supplies, pulling out a stack of patches. She tried to decline, but Kuiil was insistent. “I have spoken.” 

She stood slowly, her legs shaky from her muscles being tense for so long, and as she went to take a step, her knee buckled slightly, and the Mandalorian’s hands flew to her waist, grip firm, to keep her steady. Her hands landed on his shoulders as she began to fall, and she looked down at his helmet to see his visor tilted up, looking at her.    
  
The Mandalorian stood slowly, his hands staying firm on her waist as he rose, until he once again towered over her. She kept her hands on his shoulders, as she wasn’t all that confident that she wouldn’t fall if she let go.

“You should rest,” the Mandalorians’ voice was a soft hum as it passed through the modulator. “You’ll likely be sore for a while, your muscles were extremely tense during the procedure.”    
  
Cerliah nodded, already fighting back a yawn. She wasn’t just physically exhausted, but the emotional toll of the day was hitting her, and all she really wanted to do was curl up in a ball and go to sleep. 

She faintly heard Kuiil offer his bed and the Mandalorian decline, saying something about a bed on the ship, but she felt as though she was listening to their conversation through cotton in her ears. She felt a light squeeze on her waist, and she refocused on the man in front of her.

“Can you walk back to the ship?” 

Cerliah nodded slowly, but as the Mandalorian slowly released her and she went to move away, she felt her legs give out underneath her. Her reaction was too slow to catch her fall, but thankful the Mandalorian was more alert. 

His body moved too quickly for her tired eyes to register, but she felt as one of his arms wrapped around her back and the other wrapped underneath her knees, and before she could even really register that she was falling, she was up in the air, cradled in the Mandalorian’s arms. Her head was nestled once more between his neck and shoulder, and her arms were curled comfortably against her stomach.

He’d moved so quickly but so smoothly, Cerliah wasn’t jolted in the slightest. To be honest she wasn’t all that surprised when she went from standing–technically mid-fall–to suspended in the air, although that was likely due in part to her thoughts moving through her head like molasses.

The Mandalorian said something to Kuiil–she could only tell due to the rumble of his chest against her body, as her hearing was all but shot at this point–and then he began moving, presumably towards the ship.

The gentle rocking motion of his steps wasn’t helping her efforts to stay awake, and she drifted in and out of consciousness on the way back to the ship. 

She didn’t actually remember falling asleep in the Mandalorian’s arms, but the next time she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by grey, metal walls. She was being set down on something–her mind vaguely registered it as a bed–and a blanket was being pulled over her body. There was a glint off of a beskar helm as the Mandalorian leaned over her, arranging her head on the pillow so that she wasn’t putting pressure on her wound. 

She faintly felt warm, calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair off her face, and as her eyes fell shut once more, she could have sworn she heard the Mandalorian speak.

“It’s alright,  _ mesh’la.  _ Sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the second story in the I See Starlight series!! We finally get to see Mando!!!! I'd planned on doing the whole series from Cerliah's perspective, but most of this chapter just seemed to flow better from Mando's. As always, this work is un-beta'd and all mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy!!!


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